Road Trip
by googleit6
Summary: *AU Post AC1* Shaun and Rebecca are looking for help. The problem is, they have no idea where to get it. Desmond and Lucy are on the run from Abstergo and looking for help. The problem is, they have no idea where to get it. *Strong language*
1. On Thin Ice

**Road Trip**

_Shaun and Rebecca are looking for help. The problem is, they have no idea where to get it. _

_Desmond and Lucy are on the run from Abstergo and looking for help. The problem is, they have no idea where to get it. _

**A/N: Any uploads from now on might be a liiittle bit spaced out. The reason why? Spiders have invaded my basement. I swear to God, I saw three of the exact same kind three days in a row. A new family has moved into the house. *sigh* So, I've been waiting for them to leave, as I've left them a kind, get-the-hell-out-of-my-house-before-I-call-the-exterminater message. (No, I'm kidding. But I have tried talking to them. They ignore me, and I end up being scared away from the computer.)**

**Anyways, I hate spiders, and they all should die. Focusing on the story... I meant for this to be light and fluffy, but once I started writing Desmond and Lucy's part, I realized that running for your life from such a corperation as Abstergo doesn't exactly sync up with light and fluffy, if you know what I mean. So... it's primarily from Shaun's and Desmond's point of view. (although I throw a few thoughts Lucy's and Rebecca's way every now and then.) After all my dumb blabbing, here is the story! Enjoy! **

* * *

"Rebecca, this is _ridiculous_." Shaun complained, keeping his eyes on the road. His complaint was directed at the petite, dark haired woman beside him. "I mean, _Jesus Christ, _whose terrible idea was it to search the whole bloody _nation _for other assassins?"

"Shaun, I am so sick and tired of your bullshit. Please, _please, _just shut up. Listen to the goddamn radio if it will take your mind off things, but _stop talking_." Rebecca exclaimed, feeling as she might just throw Shaun out of the car herself if he couldn't keep his mouth shut for much longer.

"Okay, okay," Shaun surrendered, putting a hand over his heart. "Rebecca, from this moment on, I will remain as silent as your bedroom has been for the last few years. Speaking of that, what's the deal? Being hell-bent on bringing down the largest Templar cover ever is stressful, and I never even hear you rub one-"

"Shaun!" Rebecca shouted, her cheeks coloring. "Shut the fuck up!"

Rebecca and Shaun had only been on the road a few days, and more than once, Rebecca had had to fight the urge to stick her finger in a hotel electrical socket. Or stick Shaun's finger in one. Come to think of it, there were other extremities on Shaun that she could stick into an electrical socket that would be _much _more painful. A smile crossed her face as she pictured Shaun not being a douche bag for at least a moment, as he writhed on the floor with electricity coursing through him.

Shaun was keeping his eyes on the road. Damned if he would be the one who caused this car to flip off the road. Being an assassin, however, you had to be prepared for the unexpected, which might include flipping a car based on your own volition.

Shaun opened his mouth, but was met by an angry grunt from Rebecca.

"Rebecca-"

_Grunt_.

"Rebecca!"

_Grunt!_

Shaun sighed, and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Where the hell was he going, anyways?

"Wherearewegoing?" The words gushed out of Shaun's mouth before Rebecca could cut him off again.

"What?" She asked, exasperated.

"Where are we going, exactly?"

"Jesus, Shaun. How many times have we been over this? We don't have an _exact _destination. Once we find a lead, we'll work from there."

"Well, that's an exceptional plan, Rebecca. We might as well give a toddler a scalpel and ask him perform open heart surgery. He might have a better chance of completing his task successfully than we do of ours."

"You know what, Shaun? You are deep. Truly, you are. Unfortunately, the majority of that depth is made up of your cynicism. The rest is made up of you being a genuine asshole. Now, I would've said that you were fat, but I know how offensive the term is to you."

"It's going to be a long trip, Rebecca. You might want to save a few of those gems for later." Shaun shot back, adjusting his glasses, although they were bound to fall down the bridge of his nose again in a span of a few minutes.

Rebecca sat back in her chair with a huff, blowing her long bangs out of her face. She tapped her foot and pursed her lips in a mock pout.

"I hope Baby's okay," She mumbled, glancing in the rear view mirror hanging from the dashboard.

Normally, Shaun would've made a sarcastic response to Rebecca's worries, but the Animus 2.0 was something Rebecca had worked on for months, reworking and rewiring, often endangering herself in the process. On the days it seemed like Shaun wasn't having his boy-period PMSing mood swings- which was most days, truth be told- he would offer his help to Rebecca, even though he knew she would reject it, being the independent person she was. All those months, Shaun had watched Rebecca build and rebuild, with a determination about her unmatched by anyone. He himself was not knowledgeable in such extensive maths and sciences, but he did know enough to understand that what Rebecca was building- by herself, no less- was genius. After all of her months of hard work, Rebecca finally had gotten the design right, and the pride and glow that she floated around in made Shaun feel exceptionally proud of her, like the way a big brother would be proud of his kid sister who had just won the science fair. He would never admit it to anyone, even himself, but Shaun cared about Rebecca very much, and was very protective of her, whether it be because of her small stature, or the fact that Shaun admired her intelligence, he did not know. All he did know, was that if anyone messed with Rebecca, they messed with Shaun- although Shaun figured he wouldn't even be able to get a punch in before Rebecca flattened whoever it was that threatened her or Baby first.

The only problem with Shaun's quiet affections towards Rebecca was that he never _appeared _to feel anything other than rudeness toward her.

"Rebecca, we checked and double checked everything. The Templars have _no _idea we stole the blueprints for the animus, they have _no _idea we have a _better_ animus than them, and even if they did, they have _no _idea where it is."

"Jeeze, Shaun! Could you say it a little louder? I don't think the boys in the Whitehouse heard us!" Rebecca was working herself up, which never happened unless she was thinking of Baby.

"Sorry, sorry." Shaun surrendered quickly. "We're fine. We can turn back anytime you like, anyways. This bogus trip wasn't my idea in the first place." He said the joke with as little venom as possible, hoping to lighten the tense mood. Strangely, he usually loved to fuel the tension, but he knew how hard Rebecca was working on their two-man creed, so he tried to let up a little, whenever he could. However, he _was_ a cynical person by nature, and that trait most often seemed to trump his attempts at being more cordial to Rebecca. He was trying, though.

"No, no. We can keep going. Shaun, you know as well as I do that we've hit dead ends from our office, and the only way to find another assassin is to _find _him, you know? In the flesh."

"Yes. Finding an assassin should be a walk in the park. It's not like assassins are bred to _avoid_ people trying to find them."

"We're assassins, Shaun. Finding our own kind will be difficult, but not impossible. We know how to track. We can be inconspicuous."

Shaun pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sighed. His mouth was turned down at the corners as per usual, and his eyes displayed blatant doubt.

"We've been out of the loop for a few years, Rebecca, holed up in the apartments, working on secret missions. For a society trying to protect mankind's free will, _we_ sure don't get to have much."

"You could've left whenever you wanted, Shaun. You can leave now," Rebecca said quietly. "I won't stop you."

"Stop the bullshit, Rebecca. You know that's not what I meant." In his agitation, Shaun's glasses had returned to where they spent the majority of their time- at the tip of his nose. In his frustration, he took them off and sat them in a cupholder between himself and Rebecca. "The point I was trying to make was that acquainting ourselves with the general workings of everyday life again might not be such a bad idea. It's not like we don't have the time."

"We aren't completely ignorant, Shaun. We know what the world is like. We've done groceries, gone to the Laundromat. Hell, we've even been to a movie or two."

"Yes we have. But, at the time, those were all luxuries. We got a chance to live a normal life for a couple of hours, and it was like a gift. For however long we are actually living in the real world and not tinkering with the animus, or uncovering conspiracies, things we once thought of as luxuries are now things we must take for granted. It's almost the opposite of what most people aspire to live like, but we all know that we are different from most people. It's all about the mentality, Rebecca. The more normal we seem, the less likely an assassin will know if we are on to them."

Rebecca thought Shaun's reasoning seemed off, but she didn't mention it. If he was holding something back, he would never tell her unless he chose to. What it sounded like to her was that Shaun missed living a normal life, although it had been a long time since he had gotten the chance.

As she thought about this, she couldn't help picturing Shaun as a child. A little boy with sandy hair, and spectacles. Not glasses, but spectacles. Shaun probably had thought that they made him seem smarter. He was that kid that read books at recess, and if the older kids ever teased him, he would whip out a big word he had just learned, and leave the kids wondering what they had just been called, even though it was equivalent to a snot nosed ugly kid. In more delicate terms, of course.

Rebecca giggled, pressing a hand to her mouth. Shaun had probably never been a normal person, to tell the truth. He was just one step above those homeless people who wore tin foil hats and spoke of mind control from the aliens. On the mind control, however, they were hitting the nail on the head. The tin foil hats, though… Those got Rebecca every time.

"Rebecca… did you take a few too many uppers today?" Shaun asked, making reference to her mood just a few moments previous.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," She assured him, waving a hand dismissively.

Shaun continued to drive in silence. Rebecca kept fiddling with the radio, though it was hard to find a solid station on the highway.

Midday slowly gave way to late afternoon, which then melted into sundown. Aside Shaun's earlier inquiry about Rebecca's possible drug intake, little conversation had been made since midday. Shaun was feeling his eyelids start to droop, and by the time night had fallen, he was exhausted.

His complaints of killing both of them if they didn't get to a hotel soon finally pissed Rebecca off enough to call it a day. Shaun pulled into a decent hotel somewhere in the back roads of a city he hadn't noticed the name to. As Shaun was waiting for Rebecca to get their room key and pay for the night, he felt the need to rest his eyes for a moment.

The next thing he knew, the blaring of a horn had woken him up. Shaun's eyes flew open, only to see that his forehead was stuck to the steering wheel, and he was the one sounding the horn.

Shaun rubbed his eyes tiredly, and heard a distant, "Shut the hell up!" from one of the hotel's rooms.

A tap on the passenger side glass startled him, but it was only Rebecca.

"Was that you waking up the whole hotel?" She asked as she slid into the car.

"I was just resting my eyes," Shaun muttered defensively, making his way to the parking lot and pulling into a spot.

The cool night air woke Shaun up enough as he popped the trunk for himself and Rebecca. They grabbed their bags, and after locking the car, headed to their first floor room.

With a grateful sigh, and not even considering the amount of unsanitary things on the bedspread, Shaun collapsed on one of the beds.

"Christ, I'm tired," he mumbled.

"It's not even that late, Shaun," Rebecca informed him, inclining her head toward the digital clock on the nightstand between the two beds.

"Yeah, well, _you _didn't drive for twelve hours straight today."

"That may be true. However, I did drive twelve hours straight yesterday. And if I recall, _I _made it past midnight. I mean, all you ever do is sit and research things, and you're still fine enough after twelve hours of _that_ to annoy the hell out of me."

"You know I do more than sit and look shit up on _Wikipedia_." Even in his tired state, Shaun still summoned up enough energy to shudder at the thought of Wikipedia. Inaccuracies, less-than-half truths, blatant lies… ugh. Shaun found sources as primary as he could get- on a computer, of course.

Rebecca pranced into the bathroom, and Shaun heard water running.

The lights in this generic hotel room were too bright. Damn fluorescent light bulbs. You'd think they would've fixed the "scouring retinas" part on the description on the box by now.

Truly exhausted, Shaun put his elbow over his eyes, and was out within minutes.

***

"Lucy, this is _ridiculous!_ We can't keep running forever!" Desmond exclaimed.

"Desmond," Lucy was keeping her cool, -something she had learned from Abstergo- and ironically, she was putting that skill to the test when running _away _from Abstergo. "We might _have_ to keep running forever. I know you didn't ask to be a part of this, but you have no choice now. Well, you _do_, but I doubt you want you want to die a slow, painful death at the hands of Vidic." Lucy spit out the man's name with unconscious venom, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"It's just so frustrating!" Desmond said angrily, wanting to hit something. "I mean, we can't fight back, we can't go to the authorities… we can't do _anything_! Is the whole world doomed, then? Who can fight the Templars? I _saw _my own people being slaughtered at the hands of those bastards!"

"Stop, Desmond. You can't get bent out of shape. We're going to need every amount of togetherness we can get, and you're constant outbursts won't help us at all. There is a long road ahead of us, and unless you want to get out of the car right now, we're in it together."

Lucy stared Desmond down, her light blue eyes searching his dark brown ones. Desmond took a few deep breaths, and calmed down a little bit.

"I'm obviously not going to leave," He mumbled.

Lucy pursed her lips. Her knuckles were white against the dark leather of the steering wheel.

"Are you okay?" Desmond asked, staring at her tense hands. As he asked the question, re realized how moronic it sounded.

"I'm fine," She replied curtly, not looking at him.

"Okay…" Desmond backed off, turning to look out the window. There were on some back roads in some countryside, and all he could think was how if they couldn't disappear in such an out of the way place as this, where the hell could they disappear to?

They passed the occasional farm, although those were getting scarcer and scarcer as time went on. The scenery was all very green this time of year, and Desmond figured that once the Templars caught up to them, at least the ground was soft enough to dig a coffin, and he wouldn't be just thrown into a river somewhere, turning up on a bank, just to ruin some jogger's morning run or something.

They had been on the road for a few days, and so far, there had been no sign of any Templars. However, the Templars were not the red-cross bearing soldiers Desmond had learned of from his time in the animus with Altaïr. For all Desmond knew though, Templars could inhabit every city on the globe, all moles, learning the world's secrets. Now, whether Desmond liked it or not, _he _was the Templar's newest secret, and although the Templars brought secrets _into _their stronghold, none were ever brought _out_. And once Vidic was done with him, the secret would be put away for good. Images of horror movies Desmond had once seen were flashing in his mind. The killer is in the backseat, biding his time. The killer is riding on the underbelly of the car, waiting for you to stop at a secluded location. You're being trailed with a GPS. In the movies, the bad guy had known where you were from the start; just letting you play right into his hands… A sick game like a cat plays with a mouse. Every once in a while, the cat takes its paw off the mouse's tail, gives it a head start, but now that the cat has honed in, that mouse is as good as dead, whether it knows it or not.

Swallowing hard, Desmond nervously checked the rear-view mirror. No one was behind them on the road- it was completely deserted. He checked over his shoulder- no one was waiting with a bloody dagger in hand. The trunk was separate from the rest of the car, so Desmond had no idea what could be lurking in there. Lucy had cleared it when they were leaving Abstergo, but you never know… Any moment that they had both left the car….

_Jesus, Desmond, stop being such a coward. You are with a fully trained assassin, and you yourself are not half bad at combat. No one is in the damn trunk, anyways. _That was Desmond's logical side speaking. The side that had been captured by three masked goons in the middle of the night and taken to Abstergo under a sedative was thinking differently, however.

_Check the goddamn trunk right now, Desmond. You want someone slicing through the upholstery and slitting both yours and Lucy's throats in two seconds flat? _

Red had never been Desmond's colour, and he was not willing to give it a chance.

"Stop the car, Lucy."

"What?" She asked incredulously, turning her gaze towards him.

"Stop. The. Car."

"_Why_?"

"I need to check something."

Lucy was looking at him with wide eyes, and Desmond could have sworn he saw something akin to fear in them.

"What are you going to do?" She asked quietly, as she slowly pulled the car to the side of the road. Gravel could now be heard hitting against the underbelly of the automobile.

Without answering, Desmond opened the door, and stepped onto the rocky side of the road. He unlocked the trunk from the passenger side of the car, and walked back. _This is so ridiculous, _he kept telling himself, although he couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that now had wedged itself in between his abdomen and rib cage. With every step he took, his nerves were telling him turn around. His heart was pounding in his ears as he stood in front of the unlocked trunk, so he didn't notice Lucy get out of the car, and move towards him.

With a deep breath that didn't get very far, as he could feel his chest tightening in panic, Desmond gripped the handle of the trunk. If someone was hidden there, they would have heard the unlocking of the car. They could have a gun pointed at him and get a round off before he even had the trunk fully open. He moved to the side, hoping the throw off the potential attacker, and yanked the trunk open.

No one was there.

"Jesus," He breathed, leaning against the back bumper, feeling his heart racing.

_Paranoid, _he scolded himself. It was then he noticed Lucy staring at him with relief. Had she thought someone was in the trunk, too?

"Were you thinking what I was thinking?" He asked, nodding towards the open trunk.

Lucy was speechless. Then she started to laugh. A breathless, nervous laugh.

"I thought you were taking me up on my offer," She said shakily, leaning beside Desmond, putting her hands over her face.

"What offer- oh…" Realization dawned on Desmond's face. Then incredulity set in. "You seriously thought I was going to leave you in the middle of God-knows-where?" He asked, almost unbelievingly.

"Well… Yes." Lucy admitted, her voice muffled by her hands. "I mean, I figured you would have left somewhere with people around, but you have as good a chance in the car as anywhere, if you're trying to outrun the Templars. I thought you just decided to go alone, on foot. Anything goes in this situation…" She mumbled miserably.

Desmond was stunned, but figured Lucy hadn't picked up on his total dependence on her for sanity.

"Hey," He said gently, pulling her hands away from her face. She looked at him, questioning. "I'm not going to leave you," He promised, noticing a stray hair had escaped Lucy's messy topknot in the gentle breeze of the day. It gleamed golden in the sun, and Desmond caught it between his fingers, tucking it behind her ear.

"Thank you," She whispered, looking down, a blush coloring her cheeks.

They stood silent and still, looking at each other. Lucy's blue eyes were bloodshot, and Desmond's face was withdrawn. It seemed that the skin was stretched tighter over his bones than that of a few weeks previous.

"You look tired…" Desmond said quietly, noting the bloodshot eyes with concern.

"Yeah, well, that's what you get when you're running from people who want nothing but your life." She said bluntly, willing herself not to let her knees give out, slide to the ground, and just give up. It had been looking more and more welcoming lately, even with Desmond's constant presence.

Desmond was torn. Should he console her? Tell her everything would be alright? They both knew what a lie that was. But confirming it… Well, it was like receiving an invitation to your own funeral with the words written in bold, black letters: **We don't know when. But it will be soon. We'll keep a casket safe for you.**

Sometimes, a person can manage to skate over reality, hardly brushing the surface. And it helps- for a while. When the ice thins, though… The skater is merely biding time, waiting for the inevitable. Falling into the rush of reality is overwhelming and all-consuming, and is entirely unforgiving.

Desmond had a feeling that Lucy was skating on _very _thinice. Confirmation-even though she already knew _exactly _what was breathing down their necks- might just cause the unavoidable fall to come even sooner. And Desmond needed Lucy firing on all pistons, for as long as possible. She had looked after him throughout his stay at Abstergo. It was his turn to carry their burden.

Desmond chose his next words carefully.

"Let's keep going." No words of acceptance, no murmurs of promises.

Lucy nodded, and Desmond noticed how everything about her tightened, and how her eyes glazed over.

Desmond gathered his wits about him, and the two returned to the car. He would drive this time.

They had only been on the road for a few days.

* * *

**A/N: I hope people don't mind Desmond and Lucy! Yeah, it may be a little soon, but people bond in a crisis. (And nothing has _really _happened yet, has it?)**

**I hope no one takes Lucy's being somewhat weak as an insult. She's done a lot for Desmond, and she _did _have a life at Abstergo before we knew her. Who knows what she suffered while out of our sight... Anyways, she's just exhausted, and maybe _someone *wink wink* _will be there to wake her up again.**

**Hope you enjoyed! :)**


	2. Pit Stops

**A/N: Poor Shaun. *sigh* He always get picked on. Or maybe that's just me. In Rebecca's, erm, strategy to wake Shaun up, the line about the drool was what sparked that little scene. **

**Enjoy ! **

* * *

Shaun snored _really _goddamn loudly. It was kind of disturbing, really. It wasn't like this was the first time Rebecca and Shaun had ever slept in the same room, but _every fucking morning _Shaun would start up with the snoring. The first time she had experienced Shaun's absurd snores, she had literally fallen out of bed, smacked her head on her nightstand, and was then up and waving around her gun, thinking someone had already shot off a round in the apartment somewhere. It was that bad.

Rebecca stood at the foot of Shaun's bed and stared at him with distaste. Shaun, usually so prim and proper, was not a pretty sleeper. In the middle of the night, he had kicked the covers off, and his legs were crossed over each other, making one of his boxer hems roll up unnaturally high. He was usually pale, but his thighs were fucking _milky_. Shaun was wearing a plain white t-shirt, and a sliver of his stomach was peeking out, as his arms were thrown in absolute random directions. His right arm reached across his body and dangled off the bed, and his left one -the one that was under his body- was facing in the complete opposite direction, almost making him look like he was in the middle of some sort of ballet jump.

With his face directed toward the ceiling, Rebecca could clearly see the trail that the drool had left when it travelled down Shaun's chin sometime in the night. In fact, a spit bubble was just forming again- ah, there it was. A fresh trail.

Shaun's brown hair was in so much disarray; Rebecca was almost tempted to look for the electrical socket that had gotten revenge on him last night- she felt like she owed it money or something.

Enough making fun of Shaun. Rebecca glanced at the clock, and to her amusement, she saw that it was five AM. She saw the tiny light blinking in the corner that indicated that the alarm was on, and that it should be going off right now.

Rebecca waited…

There it was.

She waited…

There it was again.

In spite of herself, Rebecca giggled. She could only hear it in between Shaun's deafening snores. Now _that _took persistence. Many people found an alarm clock to make one of the most annoying sounds in human history- and here was Shaun, giving it a run for its money.

Enough making fun of Shaun? Maybe. But he still needed to be woken up… Rebecca smiled maliciously and left the room quietly, even though she figured she could have slammed the door as hard as she could, and while waking every other person in the motel, Shaun still wouldn't hear it over his motorcycle revving snores. As she slipped out of the room, Rebecca wondered how thin the walls were. She would have to write a note of apology to their neighbours for the night.

Making her way to the end of hall and back, Rebecca was quiet in slipping back in the room. She was hoping that Shaun wasn't awake yet. Resorting to dorm room like pranks certainly weren't the best way to deal with the impending collapse of a secret organization like the Assassins, but sometimes, you just had to do whatever the _fuck _you wanted. As long as you don't compromise the Brotherhood. Briefly, Rebecca wondered if what she was doing would be considered compromising the Brotherhood.

And then she thought, _Nah._

Shaun was having a wonderful dream. He was in a huge library, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books. There was a grating noise coming from somewhere, but Shaun dismissed it. It wasn't _that _loud. And he could lose himself in books for hours, while blocking out the noise.

If Shaun were a girl, his panties would be wet. Boys didn't get erections for things like books or video games. But girls got wet over nice dresses and nail polish and shit… right?

Shaun was walking toward the books, reaching out for a particularly nice navy blue one with fancy gold writing on the cover. It was so close… It was calling his name, wanting him to put his nose deep inside it, and read it cover to cover…

But then he was plunged into the Antarctic Ocean.

"WHAAA!"

Shaun screamed, and it was almost louder than his snoring. He was dancing around the motel room, shaking ice cubes out of his shirt and cursing in five different languages. Ice cubes were flying everywhere, and Shaun was slipping on them now, looking almost too much like a cartoon character having stepped on an unfortunate child's marble game.

He flung his arms around a few more times, and finally, all the ice was out.

Breathing hard, he sat down on the edge of his bed, and was trying to find his bearings after that rude awakening.

He sat in silence for a few moments, and then he started to shake. He looked down at the carpet in front of him, and saw petit size six feet wearing pale blue socks. Slowly, his eyes travelled up to Rebecca's face, which was unabashedly gloating.

"Rebecca…" Shaun started quietly, looking into her dark eyes. "I believe, in the western culture in the twenty first century, the standard way to wake someone up would be to either inform them of it loudly and clearly, or shake them gently. So, I hope you don't mind my asking… WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

Shaun was seething, and was now standing, towering over Rebecca. Rebecca was trying to hold back giggles as she spoke.

"You were drooling so much, I thought it had dried and glued your lips together and you couldn't breathe. I feared for your safety."

"…WHAT?" Shaun screamed, still beside himself. "YOU DUMPED ICE CUBES DOWN MY SHIRT!"

"Hey… cool down, Shaun." Rebecca kept a straight face for all of five seconds, then dissolved into laughter again.

Shaun was clenching and unclenching his fists. The tips of his ears were bright red, as was the back of his neck.

"Whoa there, Shaun," Rebecca said worriedly. "If it makes you feel better, all the ice cubes will have been melted by now from the heat of your anger. I bet you can't even feel them anymore."

Shaun narrowed his eyes.

"You sure have a good sense of humour for someone who is about to become part of the motel carpet."

"Those were some spiffy dance moves with the ice cubes. I think you've left out parts of your childhood in your oh-so-humble retellings. Come on, Shaun Hastings was Madame's favourite pupil, right? All the girls were jealous of you because you were lighter on your feet than them, weren't they?"

"Sometimes, Rebecca, I think you forget the size difference between us. I could be as light footed as a fucking cheetah and still create an accordion out of you."

"An accordion, Shaun, really? How many Wile. E. Coyote cartoons did you watch as a kid?"

"Oh, you want to bring children into this? Trust me, Rebecca, there's already a child in this conversation. We don't need any more."

"Children allow you to keep a sense of humour. I guess it makes sense that you don't like children, let alone don't have any."

"Oh, ho ho, my funny bone is tingling."

"I didn't know you had one."

Rebecca and Shaun were staring daggers at each other, when Rebecca thrust out her hand and said, reluctantly, "Truce?"

"Well, I didn't exactly get to settle the score… But we really should get going. So, truce."

And they shook hands.

It was only later, once the duo was back on the road, and the ice cube incident was long forgotten, that Shaun realized what Rebecca had done, whether intentionally or unintentionally. For those five minutes or so, for that brief window of time, Shaun had completely forgotten _why _he needed to be woken up so early, and _why _he had to stay in a seedy motel. All he could think about was how much Rebecca annoyed him.

But it was okay, because lately, Shaun would rather be angry or annoyed than paranoid and scared. It didn't last long, but then again, no vacation lasts long- and that's exactly how Shaun saw it. It was a vacation from the horrors of the real world into the petty world of pranks of a brother and sister.

Shaun would _never _tell anybody this, but sometimes, _sometimes_, he would feel as if those worlds were closer than they appeared.

And _that _comforted him if nothing else did.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Desmond asked worriedly, staring up at the sleazy motel. "It looks like someone could murder us in our sleep and no one would bat an eye."

Lucy sighed.

"We don't have many other options, Desmond, unless you think the car is more secure than this."

"I think a fucking shack is more secure than this." Desmond mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Lucy sighed again, and the two made their way into the motel. It was morning. The last thing Lucy wanted to do was be driving in the middle of the night and stand out, but it was awfully hard to be conspicuous on a road where no one else was fucking driving. So, in the end, it didn't really matter.

And they were both exhausted.

While Desmond checked in, Lucy leaned against a wall outside and smoked a cigarette.

She hadn't smoked in almost ten years. But this morning, she thought, _fuck it_, and picked up a pack at the last gas station they had stopped at.

The smoke was thick in her lungs, and it took her a while to get used to the rhythm again. But when she did, it was so calming, so soothing.

_Why did I quit again_? She asked herself, inhaling.

_It's a fucking filthy habit. _Exhale.

_Opportunity cost. Health in exchange for serenity. _Inhale.

_It's hard to be serene with lung cancer. _Exhale. Blow some smoke rings.

_It's been a while since you felt this calm. _Inhale.

_I'm safe. _Exhale.

_For now. _Inhale.

_Desmond didn't look too approving when you returned with a pack of cigarettes. _Exhale.

_That's not my problem. _Inhale.

_Are you sure about that? _Exhale. Tap off ashes.

_We're two people thrown together because we're in the same shitty situation. _Inhale.

_That's what it _was. Exhale.

_That's what it _is. Inhale.

_It's different now. _Exhale.

Lucy's musings were interrupted when a couple walked out the doors of the motel. It was pretty early for people to be checking out. It was only- Lucy checked her watch- five-thirty.

The woman was short and petite, with short brown hair. The man was taller with brown hair and glasses.

Were they a couple? They weren't holding hands or anything that especially portrayed intimacy.

Who else do you leave a shady motel with at five-thirty in the morning?

Suddenly, Lucy got it.

_They must be having an affair._

Surprised at her own conclusion, Lucy studied the couple with greater intensity. Neither of them was wearing wedding bands. That didn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe they didn't like to see them and be reminded of who they were being unfaithful to.

Lucy wondered if they were _both _married, or if only one of them was. She wondered if either of them had kids. She wondered if that woman had had a child with the man she was with now, and was raising it as her and her husband's. _If _she was married, that is.

However, Lucy's assumption about the affair was tested when the pair got into the same car, and drove off together. And, come to think of it, they had had luggage. How many people who are having affairs bring _luggage _to their secret meetings?

Maybe they were relatives?

Lucy was still pondering this when Desmond stuck his head out the door to tell her they could go up to their room now.

After assuring him that she would be along in a minute, Desmond returned inside. He might not have meant to show it, but when he had noticed Lucy was smoking, he had wrinkled his nose up the slightest bit.

Lucy looked up at the building. She doubted smoking would be prohibited, considering the dump the place was.

_That's what it _was.

Making her decision, and taking one last long drag for good luck, Lucy dropped her cigarette, and ground it into the soil with the ball of her foot- there were no ash trays around.

She entered the lobby of the motel, and Desmond was waiting for her at the elevator. When he saw that she had put out her cigarette, he offered her a small smile.

Returning the smile, she made her way toward him, and protested when he wanted to carry her bag as well. After little objection, he handed her suitcase over with a smirk. She liked that he gave her suitcase back.

As they went into the elevator, they both reached for the same button at the same time. For a moment, Desmond's strong hand was resting on top of Lucy's. Then, with an awkward chuckle, Desmond pressed the button and withdrew his hand.

Lucy felt herself flush.

_It's different now. _

"Holy _fuck_, I'm tired." Desmond yawned widely, then collapsed on the bed.

Lucy crossed the generic motel room and shut the curtains with the squealing of crappy curtain hooks on a crappy curtain rod- hopefully, that would keep any possible prying eyes out. And, of course, they wanted as little light as possible when they were trying to sleep.

"You better take a hot shower, or walk up and down the stairwells. You're going to be extremely stiff tomorrow- tonight." Lucy informed him, grabbing her toiletry bag and entering the bathroom.

It was a good thing Lucy had entered the bathroom, for she hadn't heard Desmond's snicker.

_Childish behaviour, _he scolded himself.

Desmond had read books like these before. The ones where the everyman was paired up with the beautiful, intelligent woman, and in the end, they got married, or got a dog, or brought the antagonist to its knees and had it sucking its thumb in a dark corner somewhere curled up in the fetal position.

Was that what happened in real life, though? Desmond was pretty sure he would have had his head blown off in any one of those books- right in the first twenty pages, too.

But the endings… The one about defeating the antagonist was nice, but the one involving the female protagonist was what Desmond was focusing on at the moment. Hell, what if he got both endings? And a dog?

Or, he could none of those endings. Although he was sure Lucy was doing her damndest to protect the two of them, Desmond couldn't help believing that his novel was going to be a short one.

Short stories could be good, though. Hell, they could even be great. It was all about what you did with the amount of characters you had.

_What are you going to do with yours? _He asked himself.

_Something good._

_Okay, good start. Keep going._

_Something involving Lucy._

_Keep going._

_Something involving Lucy and myself._

_Getting warmer._

_Something involving Lucy and myself and… warmth._

_Good, good. Now, what about Abstergo?_

_Let's create our novel from back to front with one ending at a time, please. Get the girl, _then_, if we have enough pages left, we'll deal with Abstergo._

_Good enough._

Desmond heard the bathroom door open, and opened one eye to see Lucy emerge. The light in the bathroom was on, and it made her look like she was appearing out of a burst of light.

_Give her a set of stairs to walk down from, and she'll be a goddamn angel._

…_Shut up._

Lucy could notice it in the dark, but she must have felt Desmond's eye on her, for she said, "What?"

Desmond opened his mouth, ready to say… something. Anything important that he felt should be said now, before it may be too late.

But the words froze on his lips. His confidence dissipated rapidly, and he found his stomach in knots. His tongue became clumsy, and wouldn't form the words he wanted to convey to her. The words were… somewhere. Desmond could _feel _them inside him, but they weren't exactly… coherent. They weren't forming something concrete, that he could hold onto quite yet.

_Give it time._

_Now answer her before she thinks you stroked out on the bed._

"…Nothing."

* * *

**A/N: Ahhh, poor Desmond, arguing with himself. He's never been a particularly poetic kind of guy, so when anything remotly resembling angels or pretty colours creeps into his mind, he just shuts down... xD. Will that change? Perhaps. (Or perhaps not. Honestly, I don't know.) :)**

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**Note: Why does Lucy smoke? Because it fit the scene at the time. Can I imagine her smoking? Yes. She's lived a pretty stressful life, from what I've gathered. And, let's be honest, she's a hell of a lot cooler smoking and musing than just purely musing. xD *That was a joke. Smoking is NOT cool, kids.* :)**


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